Page 9 of Rogue’s Mark

Which also might mean Fischer did not misspeak when he mentioned Vi’s father earlier, indicating the man could still be alive.

Now she wants answers. We all do.

I head down the corridor, in the direction of her room, with the vague feeling that I'm walking toward something I'm not ready for.

I go anyway.

6

ROGUE

Her door’s open. I don't knock. That would imply the open door wasn't an invitation, and I don’t feel like messing with passive-aggressive crap like that right now.

She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with her father's papers spread out, organized in some system that makes sense to her. There are papers on the bed, papers on the desk, two folders open near the wall. She's got a pen behind her ear and another one in her hand, and she's reading something with the focus of a woman who’s going to figure shit out if it kills her.

She doesn't look up. "Close the door," she says.

I close the door and lean against it.

"I meant from the outside," she says. “With you outside it, in other words. Please.”

Damn.

She looks up and takes me in where I’m standing against her closed door in her closed room. Sighing, she goes back to her notes, which is either an invitation or dismissal. With Vi, it could be either.

"You went to see Fischer," she says.

"Yup."

"And?"

"Nothing yet. Guess he's thinking of the best way to save his own ass."

She puts her pen down on the paper in front of her. I brace accordingly.

"You're not telling me everything," she says.

"I'm telling you what I have," I lie.

“No, you’re not.”

She's right of course, and of course I’m not going to tell her that. "What do you want me to say, Vi?"

"I want you to tell me what's going on with the person in the east corridor." She looks at me steadily. "I know about him. Mara told me. Or actually, Mara told the room and I was in the room, so."

Fuck me.

Of course she knows. Jesus, what was I thinking? Vi’s in the loop and she’s going to know about shit as fast as the guys and I do, and I need to get used to that. But I make a mental note to have a conversation with Mara about operational security, even though it will probably accomplish nothing.

"Fine. Someone's watching the Rot," I say. "And we're handling it."

"We,” she says with raised eyebrows. "So you and Armen and Sting are handling it. And I'm on the floor here with my notes."

"You're always welcome to a chair. The floor’s awfully hard."

Snorting, she stands up in one motion, fluid and deliberate, and crosses her arms, which brings her to approximately chest height on me.

"Don't do that," she says.